


The Spookies

by i_gaze_at_scully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: (with a touch of angst at the end), Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_gaze_at_scully/pseuds/i_gaze_at_scully
Summary: Prompt: One time Skinner joked about them marrying one day and having spooky sciencey children together





	The Spookies

_Spring 1995_

_“How could she_ not _be climbing him like a tree? I mean, have you_ seen _Fox Mulder?”_  Was a frequently heard comment around the Hoover building water cooler. They’d gather like gazelles to drink and rip his agents apart like lions. Skinner always felt the need to defend the pair, even from such drivel as office gossip.

_“Mr. and Mrs. Spooky down there in the basement doing god knows what…”  
_ _“All I know is that if I were Mulder, I’d watch my dick during sex in case Scully bites it off.”_

This is what he is reduced to. 

He performs his perfunctory warning glare and moves along, encourages the herd to scatter.

He could give a rat’s ass what Mulder and Scully do in their off time, or what the nature of their relationship is. Frankly, he can never get a good read on it, but he knows it’s probably a lot closer to water cooler talk than whatever nonsense they feed whoever asks directly. He doubts  _they_  even know what the nature of their relationship is. He could care less.

And yet it somehow comes up constantly. Their lives too often hang in the balance of one’s willingness to defy, deny, or die for the other. With each case, he’s more and more perplexed by these two. 

He’ll stand up for his agents though, whenever he can. Because they’re damn good agents, and good people, too.

Mulder could be knocked down a peg, and Scully could use a damn drink, but they’re good people.

—

_Spring 2000_

Okay. They’re definitely sleeping together. And as much as it’s none of his business, it’s starting to become his business. It’s his business when they save his life–twice–and start calling him Walter. It’s his business when he does some digging and finds out the Bureau was charged only one motel room in Chicago (he knew their spending couldn’t have been that low, not with their track record). He doubts that’s the first time for that, and he knows it won’t be the last.

But mostly it becomes his business when they invite him out for drinks when they all return from Los Angeles.

“Dismissed,” he says after a briefing. Scully stands first, and Skinner pretends not to notice the subtle nod she gives Mulder before leaving. Their language isn’t that secret these days, despite what they might think.

“So Skinman–” Mulder starts, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Don’t,” Skinner cuts him off. He’s going to kill Federman for that one. Mulder shrugs his shoulders and brushes it off.

“Listen, Scully and I want to thank you for the whole Hollywood experience. It uh, wasn’t what we expected, but we’re grateful for it in the end. Why don’t you come out for drinks with us tonight? Our treat.” Mulder bites his inner cheek as Skinner stares him down. They stay, both unblinking, entirely still, for at least thirty seconds before Skinner returns his attention to his paperwork. Mulder takes that as his cue to leave.

“We’ll, uh, be at Shaw’s around 8 if you change your mind,” he says politely on his way out, uncharacteristically soft in shutting the door.

Dammit.

—

_Shaw’s bar_

Skinner orders a scotch neat with the lift of two fingers and checks his watch. 7:45 PM. Why he arrived early is beyond him. But there they are, huddled in a corner booth. The low light obscures most of Mulder’s face, as does the fact that half of it is nestled in the crook of Scully’s neck. Skinner gets the undeniable sense that there exist two distinct worlds: Shaw’s, in Washington, in America, on the planet Earth, and the booth in which Mulder and Scully sit. He bites the bullet with a cough and a gulp.

“Walter!” Scully says with a smile in her eyes, a dazed Mulder still righting himself when she pulls away. How long have they been here?

“Skinner! Skin ma–” A clearly drunken Mulder starts before Scully elbows him in the ribs.

Skinner has no idea what to do. He can’t even really remember the last time he got drinks with buddies, what it’s like. Are they his buddies? Who the hell knows. He does know to drink though, and that’s what he does. That’s what they all do.

“How’s your buddy ol’ friend ol’ pal Wayne feeling ‘bout the movie?” Mulder slurs at the end of the night. “Scully and I thought the amaga… am-amlags… amal…” 

“Amalgamations,” Scully supplies with a hiccup.

“Mm thank you, those–loosely based on us were… pretty loose indeed if you know what I mean.” Skinner rolls his eyes and remembers with embarrassment the final scene of the movie.

And then Scully, leaning forward across the booth, looks Skinner dead in the eye, and says “I’m sure your flashlight’s plenty big, Walter, but I’m spoken for.”

Mulder spits his drink out as Scully leans back into him with a satisfied grin and droopy eyelids. Skinner stares blankly at her for a moment before bursting into laughter, Mulder and Scully following suit. They order another drink and Skinner concludes once and for all that they are, in fact, sleeping together.

—

They all go out from time to time while conducting business as mostly usual at work. As usual as their line of business can be. There’s one day in particular that Mulder literally appears out of thin air, cursing at absolutely nothing in a room full of board members. They go out for drinks later in the week and Scully snorts laughing when Skinner recounts the scene.

“We all look up at this madman–”

“Hey now!” Mulder interrupts.

“This madman,” Skinner repeats, “who must’ve snuck in during the high point of conversation–”

“Oh come off it! When could I have–”

“He was ranting to no one, quite colorfully I might add!”

“Scully, you believe me, don’t you?” Mulder nudges his shoulder into his partner’s and she takes a long pull of her beer, eyeing him sidelong. He pouts his bottom lip out and she rolls her eyes, kissing his cheek.

“I believe you,” she appeases, but Skinner bets she really does, somehow. 

“Get a room, Spookies,” he mutters into his drink good-naturedly and they both look at him in surprise.

“Wow, Walter, ‘Spookies’ huh?” Scully chuckles. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“People had a lot more fun speculating when you two weren’t so damn obvious about it,” Skinner notes. “I mean the way you gaze so longingly standing six inches apart…” he mocks, drawing out the word gaze. He peers over the rim of his glasses at them as though they were all sitting in his office going over a case.

“Hey. I do not gaze at Scully,” Mulder objects. “How many times…” he trails off to himself. Scully shoots him a knowing look.

“Listen, just promise me this,” Skinner says more seriously, refocusing their attention. “When you do eventually tie the knot, promise me, Scully, that you won’t change your name to Mulder. If I have to hear you both shouting ‘MULDER’ everywhere you go, I swear to god…” Skinner shakes his head as they laugh. He wants to joke about what spooky nerdy space obsessed kids they’re going to have, but he thinks better of it given what he knows of Scully’s situation. It’s enough to laugh with them about the slander that used to drive him crazy. It’s enough to see them happy for once, and to be happy, too.

—

_Fall 2000_

Scully–Dana–confides in him that she’s pregnant, and he makes his resolution right then and there. The Spookies deserve to be a family, goddammit, and no one’s going to take that from his agents. His friends. Not on his watch.


End file.
